


This Ain't Love

by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 15:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1946838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo/pseuds/badjujuboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They could have had it. They could have survived more than three years of ups and downs and break ups and make ups. They could have had more than just the good times when they were really good. </p><p>They could have made it work.</p><p> </p><p>- or the Sam Smith song inspired birthday gift for Sweet Potato emoji.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Ain't Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrsyt31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsyt31/gifts).



**This Ain't Love**

"This doesn't mean anything,"

Niall nods keeping his eyes set to the city lights outside the window because he knows it doesn't. Even if he wanted it to. Even if he _always_ wants it to.

"I won't call you. I won't."

Niall breathes out a long line of smoke, tugging the sheet a bit higher around his hips and doesn't answer. It still hurts and it's stupid that it does. Still feels like a raw, open wound even though it's been months now. 

Sometimes, he wonders if it'll still feel the same in a year. In two, or three, or four. 

"We're done. It's over. This time it's goodbye, Niall. This time I'm gone."

Niall taps the build up of ash against the windowsill, lets the sound of a girls shriek and laughter from down below sting sharp in his ears. He doesn't bother to turn around. He never has. Not since that first time. There's only so many times he'll beg. Only so many times he'll plead and get down on his fucking knees with hope in his heart.

He stopped that shit long ago.

Not long enough to keep putting himself back in this situation though.

Niall's never been one to give up without a fight.

Even though he knows he's lost this one.

: : : :

 

It's been six months and he still hasn't deleted Harry's number from his phone. 

He hasn't deleted his text messages either.

It's fine. 

He's fine.

(He's really not.)

: : : :

 

He runs into Harry coming out of a cafe that's on the opposite side of town in a place that he didn't think Harry would frequent. It's a little too popular. A little too bright and shiny, whereas the Harry he knew was never for those things. A little dark and dingy, more like. It's probably because he's really not expecting to see Harry at all that he agrees to getting lunch. It's probably because he's still so fucking lonely that he follows Harry back to his place and falls into bed and falls into being fucked by Harry so easily.

It's probably because he's still so, _so_ in love with Harry, that he doesn't say anything when Harry hits the shower after pulling out. He just puts on his clothes and waits for Harry to finish.

Twenty minutes later and he knows that Harry's regretting this as much as Niall is. 

His heart breaks anew with every step he takes away from Harry and out the door.

: : : :

 

On his worst day, he doesn't make it out of bed.

He lies there from when he wakes until his phone battery dies, flipping through every picture he has of them together.

He'll delete them one day.

He will.

(No he won't.)

: : : :

 

He goes home for Christmas. It's the first time in three years that he's gone alone. 

It's strange. It's strange that it doesn't hurt like he thought it would. Seeing his mum and having her hold him close and getting drunk with his da and his brother down at their pub. . . feels normal. Feels fine.

He stumbles out the back into the alley for a piss when - as usual - the mens is out of order. In all the years that Niall's been drinking here (legally and illegally), it's only ever been working a handful of times. It's fucking cold out, and he hasn't got his jacket or his gloves or his fucking hat, because he'd left them all inside. Taken them all off at one time of the night or the other as the heat from bodies all around and the generous amount of whiskey he'd been drinking added up to flushed cheeks and sweat covered skin. 

He still has his phone though.

He has his phone and his fingers slide across the screen as the tears turn to ice on his cheeks.

He doesn't expect Harry to pick up.

He knows he should hang up. Knows that leaving a message right now will only lead to him feeling worse come morning.

But it's Christmas and his everything _aches_.

"I miss you. I miss you all the time and I'm trying so hard not to. I wish I could hate you. Hating you would make this so much easier but I can't," he sobs and his chest is so tight and his voice cracks over every word. His heart splintering apart through scar tissue thick with having been hurt before. "I can't stop wanting you."

: : : :

 

He sleeps through the New Year.

Greg had asked Denise to marry him at lunch and the whole family were celebrating downstairs.

Niall had broke down into a crying mess that ended with his mother in tears, and his father pulling Doctor Stanley from his own party two towns over. A shot of something and a promise to see someone about all of this, and Niall was out like a light.

When he wakes the next morning, he packs his bag and heads to the airport despite the fact his ticket is dated four days from now. 

He can't stay there. He can't sit and be happy for his brother - even though he is - because Greg's got everything Niall had hoped for. Even if he never said it. Even if they'd never been that close. 

They could have had it. They could have survived more than three years of ups and downs and break ups and make ups. They could have had more than just the good times when they were really good. 

They could have made it work.

He falls into bed when he gets home and curls up under the duvet that he's washed since Harry was here last. He presses his face into the pillow that was always Harry's and knows that his scent is long gone.

He breathes in deep anyway and pretends that he's not crying himself to sleep once more.

: : :

He wakes up to a quiet house and a bowl of oats covered with a plate, still warm on the bedside drawers. There's a cup of tea that when he sips, is sweet and milky and there's only one person who makes it that way.

"Hey," 

Niall breathes and hates how his eyes already sting, how his throat has already closed up around all the things he's said over and over again. He lashes flutter closed for a moment before he puts the cup back on the table. He folds his hands in his lap and wonders if he wanted Harry here too much last night, if wanting it _so much_ made it actually happen.

"You really should move the spare key from lamp out front," Harry says from where he's leaning against the doorframe. Niall looks up, forces himself to because it'll hurt whether he does or doesn't. Still, he's not prepared for Harry in the flesh. Christ, he looks good. His hair is longer than Niall remembers it, curls framing his face that looks tired from the dark bags under his eys and the way the corners of his lips turn down. He looks thinner, too. His hoodie hanging from his shoulders as much as his joggers are dropped down at the waist in a way that means they're barely hooked over his hips. 

Still. He's pretty though. Big green eyes and pink lips that Niall can feel the ghost of against his own. His cheek. His skin.

Harry shivers and wraps his arms around himself a little tighter and yeah, Niall forgot to put the heating back on last night. Niall shouldn't, he shouldn't but he still shifts his hand to the side, pulls up the duvet and stares at Harry, hoping he'll see the invitation in his eyes.

Harry bites at his bottom lip, hesitates for a mere moment before he's rocking on his heels and stumbling forward.

"It's too fucking cold," he mutters, slipping his trainers off as he slides in beside Niall. They snuggle down further, maintaining space between them but it's still closer than they've been in a long time.

Silence settles slowly around them as they stare and breathe and Niall tries to understand why Harry's here. Why Harry would choose now. 

Harry tugs at the blanket, pulling it up under his chin as his eyes turn serious and Niall braces himself for whatever it is that comes next.

"What are you doing, Niall? Your mum. . . your mum called me this morning and she cried. She," he stops and Niall can't breathe, he's sucking air in through his nose in fits but nothing's coming back out. His chest feels so full and his mouth opens but he can't even form a a word.

"We were never good for each other, we couldn't even fight properly. You'd never say what you wanted to and I'd leave before you could get the chance."

Niall knows this. He can still hear Harry saying the same thing when they broke up the first time. That Harry would find a sofa to sleep on in a flat that wasn't the one they shared. That Harry would stay away for however long it took for him to think everything had blown over, and they'd apologise or just move on. The fact that they never actually talked about what had gone wrong in the first place should have been a sign that it wasn't really a relationship in the best sense. 

They'd been friends first, lovers second. . . maybe they never should have been the second part.

"We weren't good at us. We weren't," Harry says all soft as his fingertips reach out and wipe softly across Niall's cheek. He's crying again and in front of Harry which isn't something new. He's wept too many tears over Harry, over what they were, both in front of and with the man he's lying in bed with now. He doesn't feel too badly about it though, not with Harry's eyes welling up and spilling over much like his own.

"I know," Niall whispers into the air between them, air that's shrinking as Harry leans in and presses his forehead to Niall's. "I know," he repeats again and again as Harry moves in close and his lips meet the top of Niall's cheek, the tip of his nose, the corner of his lips. 

He whispers it again and again to Harry's lips until they're kissing so hard he can't whisper it at all.

: : : :

 

Harry's still there the next morning. 

He's wrapped around Niall like how they used to sleep. Faces close on the pillow, legs entwined and arms holding each other close. 

Niall watches Harry. Watches the way his chest shifts in and out, slow and steady like the beat of his heart under Niall's fingertips. He listens to that little squeak Harry's left nostril makes as he breathes in, like it always has done. Christ, he still wants him so much. So much. 

When Harry's eyes start twitching a little, opening slow, Niall knows it won't be long before he's pulling away. Pulling back and back and leaving Niall here alone.

"Stay," he says, before he even means to speak. "Stay with me," He doesn't mean forever and he doesn't think Harry thinks that either, but he can't. He knows it won't be good for either of them but then again, every hook up they've had since they sat down and decided it was over hasn't been better for them either.

What's one more moment together like this going to hurt?

Harry stares at Niall for a moment, his eyes soft and sleepy as he blinks syrupy slow. He nods and Niall snuggles in closer. He sighs as Harry's arms bring him in reflexively and settles into sleep with Harry's everything as a soundtrack. 

: : : :

 

It hurts when he wakes up again and Harry's still there. 

He's awake this time, just lying beside Niall and watching him like Niall was before. He smiles and Niall's heart aches. Harry's eyes aren't smiling with him. They're sad and crinkled wrong around the edges. 

Niall knows what he's going to say before he says it.

That it was a one off. 

That they can't do this again.

That they shouldn't.

That they're over. They're done.

He waits for Harry to say it. Waits for Harry to stretch his heart to breaking point and tear it apart once more.

He doesn't. Harry doesn't utter a word but his look says it all.

He's waiting for Niall to and Niall knows he should. He knows that Harry's right. Harry's been right since he brought it up the first time and he's been right everytime since. Niall knows that they weren't great for each other. They had good times, good laughs, great sex. They shared as much as a couple can, but it was never enough. They werent _enough_.

Harry doesn't speak, he leans in and kisses Niall slow and sweet. When he pulls back Niall doesn't follow. He smiles when Harry does, something sad and resigned and he knows in his heart that this has to be the last time. The last time they'll taste and touch and _breathe_ each other in. He knows that when they break apart this time, it'll be the last.

And he's okay with it. He is.

(He will be.)

: : : :

A month later and Harry moves to LA and Niall gets promoted at work. He thinks about Harry but he doesn't call.

Six months, and he hears that Harry's seeing some guy and he's happy. Niall deletes their pictures from his phone.

Nine months, and Niall realises the barista at his coffee shop is flirting with him whenever he gets his order at the start of the day.

It takes Niall another two months to ask Bressie out. 

Three years later and he runs into Harry on the street in between walking to his car to pick up his daughter from her Nursery school. They smile and they share a coffee and pictures of the little boy that Harry and his husband are just waiting for the last signatures on paperwork to bring home. They talk for an hour and it's nice. It's lovely. They make promises to call each other, to arrange a catch up.

Maybe they will and maybe they won't. Their futures are their own now.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday my favourite Sweet Potato emoji! I downloaded Sam Smith JUST FOR YOU. One day i'll stop writing you heart ache for your birthday, today though, is not that day. xx


End file.
